


Nick Jonas Takes a Nap

by smithereen



Category: Jonas Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: In some alternate universe the Jonas Brothers didn't get famous. Non-famous Nick wakes up in famous Nick's life.





	Nick Jonas Takes a Nap

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ in December 2011.
> 
> Also, I apologize for any diabetes related inaccuracies. Can we agree to chalk up any really egregious liberties I took to AU World Swap Magic?

"Dude, get up." A pillow came flying across the room and smacked into the side of Nick's head.

"What," Nick grunted. He glanced over at the alarm clock. 4:37? What the hell? "It's Saturday." He turned over onto his stomach, buried his face in his pillow. And what was Joe even doing home? "Thanksgiving isn't for two weeks," he mumbled.

Joe laughed. "What are you talking about?" He jumped up on the bed next to Nick. "Pumpkin pie. Pumpkin pie," he chanted, bouncing.

"Oh my gaaaaah," Nick groaned, turning over onto his back again. He got a good grip on one of Joe's ankles and yanked. "Shut up." Joe sprawled onto the bed as he fell, his foot kicking Nick in the side. "Ow," Nick said pointedly. He covered his eyes with the heels of his hands, sleep slipping farther and farther away. Joe rolled over on top of him and tapped insistently, annoyingly on Nick's face, alternating one cheek and then the other.

"I'm actually going to kill you." Nick dropped his hands so Joe could appreciate the full fury of his glare.

"Don't blame me," Joe said cheerfully. "Mom told me to make sure you really get up. We're supposed to be at the radio station in 40 minutes, so you better hurry." His fingers curled at the hinge of Nick's jaw, not smacking anymore, just stroking a little. Soft. It was- Weird. He felt heavy on Nick's chest, made it hard to get a good breath. Nick met his eyes, and he was just- He was heavy, and he was looking, and Nick felt so pinned down. Joe leaned in, pressed his lips to Nick's, sliding a little. What- His tongue flicked out, licked wet against Nick's bottom lip.

"Joe!" Nick sat up, sputtering. Joe had the worst ever sense of humor. He was laughing, already halfway to the bathroom calling, "Dibs on first shower!" over his shoulder. Wait. The bathroom? Why was there- This wasn't- Nick blinked, his head swinging from the bathroom door to the flatscreen TV to the second bed on the other side of the room to the impersonal desk in the corner. This wasn't his room. This wasn't even his house. "What the hell," he muttered, and then called over the sound of the shower running, "Where are we?"

"Long tour, huh, Nick?" Joe called back from the bathroom, laughter in his voice. "Welcome to Miami," he started to sing. "Bienvenidos a Miami."

What? No. They were not in Miami. They were in New Jersey, and it was Saturday, and why- why- why- Nick climbed cautiously out of bed. There were suitcases piled up in the corner of the room. He yanked one open, his whole body tensing like he thought a snake was going to jump out at him or something. It was just a bunch of clothes. Clothes he didn't own. He dug around in the bag, fishing out a Mac Book he knew their family couldn't afford and like, a really lot of ties. He grabbed some stuff off the top of the dresser, flipped open a wallet, and it had to be his because that was definitely his ID but how did he have- He counted through the money quickly, almost choking when he got into the 300s. Holy crap. He looked idly at the magazines he'd tucked under his arm and then froze, staring at the cover of _Rolling Stone_.

That was- Him. And Joe and Kev too. This had to be a joke. Some kind of elaborate prank Joe was pulling that Nick couldn't really figure out a reason for right now, but there was no way he was actually on the cover of _Rolling Stone_. He flipped wildly through the magazine, looking for the article, looking for a sign that this was some stupid photoshop thing. He stared wide eyed at a big picture of the three of them on stage, Joe looking over at him with a mic stand across his shoulders and a wide grin on his face, thousands of hands reaching out to them from the crowd. "Oh my God," he said quietly. Joe emerged from the bathroom in his boxers, his hair straightened neatly. It was longer than he'd been wearing it the last time Nick had seen him. "What did you mean we're supposed to be at the radio station?" Nick said.

Joe cocked his head. "Um- That we have…" He glanced at his watch. "Less than ten minutes before we're supposed to be in the car so you better move." He grabbed a muffin off a room service tray and tossed it to Nick. "But make sure you eat something this time."

"Joe," Nick said, his voice exaggeratedly calm. "Why are we in Miami?"

"To rock out?" he said, his voice muffled as he pulled a tight t-shirt on over his head. "Hurry up and shower, dude. We're late."

Nick blindly grabbed some clothes from the suitcase in front of him. He locked the door to the bathroom behind him and stared wide-eyed at himself in the mirror. He looked the same as he ever had. That was Joe out there, and he was him, but this was- This was a dream. It had to be a dream. He almost laughed with relief. Of course it was a dream. A very weirdly real feeling dream. And he was going to wake up any minute now. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. Any minute.

*

In the car on the way to the radio station, Nick studied the _Rolling Stone_ article. All the stuff from when they were kids, the stuff about Broadway, and touring in the van, and Nick's diagnosis, was right. But after the part where Columbia dropped them the whole thing spun off into crazyland. Disney hadn't picked them up. No one had picked them up. They hadn't been able to get any real interest, and there'd been no money to keep touring, to keep chasing something that wasn't going to happen. Nick and Joe had gone back to school. Kevin had gone to work. It had been this weird little blip in their lives, this "Hey, remember that time we kind of put out a record?" thing. This almost, but not really, thing.

"Could you be more obsessed with yourself?" Joe teased, nudging him in the side with an elbow. "I think you've read that thing 53 times now."

Nick flashed a wan smile and bent his head back down over the pictures, looking for something that was going to fill in the blanks, force any of this to make sense. "It's _Rolling Stone_ ," he said. "Kind of a big deal." Joe wound an arm around Nick's waist and set his chin on Nick's shoulder. He pitched his voice high and girlish as he read out loud, "I got tingles in my body all over the place because I. Just. Met. Nick. Jonas." He popped his eyes open extra wide, his mouth fallen open in fake shock. Nick laughed, the panic that had been tight in his throat slipping as he took what felt like his first easy breath since the hotel.

Joe was grinning, his fingers loose on Nick's waist. He nuzzled his nose into the curve of Nick's neck. Nick's shoulder came up defensively, a ticklish snicker slipping out. He tried to lean away, but Joe leaned with him, crushing him into the side of the car, hugging persistently. Nick punched at Joe's arm a couple times, and kicked out, his knee knocking into the seat in front of them. Kevin glanced back and rolled his eyes. Nick bit down on his lip to fight the smile, but it was just- It was so much like a hundred times they'd taken over the backseat of the van, crammed in with a couple amps and a guitar. It was so much like it had been before everything had ended. Before Joe left. Nick went limp in Joe's arms, just let him hold on.

*

The interview at the radio station was terrifying. They'd done some of these with Columbia, and he remembered being nervous then. Being relieved when Joe would wheel off into a wild tangent, make everybody laugh, make everybody look at him instead. Nick remembered being so grateful that he didn't have to figure out how to fill the silence by himself. But this was so much worse. His knee bounced nervously under his hand, his gut clenching up every time the DJ looked at him. He was going to ask Nick about songs he'd never heard and things he'd never done and everyone was going to stare at him, waiting for him to give answers he didn't have, and there were who knew how many people listening and Nick was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

Joe's hand circled around his clenched fist under the table, a warm squeeze of fingers. And when the DJ asked Nick about Miley Cyrus, before Nick had a chance to make a fool of himself, Joe was off into some made up rap about his sunglasses. By the time Kevin gently steered them back toward the vicinity of a point they were talking about fights on the bus and that time Joe had thrown shingles at Kevin's head and at least that Nick remembered.

"In the studio with the Jonas Brothers," the DJ said. "Last night's show was sold out, but if you missed it you've still got one more chance to see them live. They've got a free show planned for tonight at the Fillmore. Tell us about it, guys."

"For us, our fans are the most important thing," Kevin said. "We feel like this is the best way to end the tour, a thank you for this whole year to all the people who've…" His voice trailed off into a muffled hum as a roaring started up in Nick's ears.

They were doing a concert tonight. And he didn't know the songs. He didn't know the set list. He didn't know anything. He struggled to keep from slumping over, from tucking his head down in between his knees. Wake up, he told himself, closing his eyes tight. Wake up. WAKE UP! But when he opened his eyes he was still sitting there.

*

"Are you okay?" Joe asked him in the SUV on the way to the venue. He tugged one of the earbuds out of Nick's ear. Nick had found his iPhone tucked into his jacket pocket, and he was frantically listening to every Jonas Brothers song on it. "You seem weird today." He touched the back of his hand to Nick's forehead. "Are you sick?"

"Yes," Nick said immediately, latching desperately onto the excuse. "I feel- bad. I, um- I don't know if I can do the show." He felt guilty even saying it out loud. They didn't cancel shows. Even when he'd first been diagnosed, they hadn't canceled shows. It hadn't mattered if no one showed up to see them. It hadn't mattered if they were all tired of living like sardines, spending all day driving, sleeping in crappy hotels. If he felt sick or dizzy, if his sugar was out of whack. None of that mattered. If they had a gig, they played it.

Joe stared at him, his mouth hanging open. "Seriously?" he said. Nick nodded, swallowing hard. He could see it on Joe's face, his forehead wrinkled up with worry. He was probably thinking about all those people that thought they were going to get a show tonight, all the people they'd be letting down if they cancelled. Joe's hand snaked down behind Nick's back, his fingers slipping under Nick's shirt, touching his hip.

"Where's your Omnipod?" Joe said sharply.

"Um-" Nick hesitated. In the real world their insurance didn't cover a pump, much less an Omnipod. He was used to doing the injections himself, no big deal. But he realized sheepishly that he hadn't really thought about his insulin at all today, not with… Everything.

"What the hell, Nick?" Joe sounded pretty annoyed, but the kind of annoyed that was mostly just worried. "Is it your levels? Should I get mom?"

"No," Nick blurted so loudly Kevin looked up from his phone with his eyebrows raised. Nick ducked his head, whispering. "It's not that, it's just- I can't sing, I-" He coughed unconvincingly. He was starting to actually feel sick for real, his stomach churning. He looked down at the iPhone in his hand helplessly. The shuffle flipped to the next song and he recognized the familiar opening chords of _Please Be Mine_. It had been a while since the last time he'd played it, but it was all still there, the chords, the words. He could practically feel the guitar in his hands. "Oh!" he said. He met Joe's eyes, leaned in eagerly. "We should play a set list of all the old stuff tonight. All stuff from the first album."

Joe raised an eyebrow. "I thought you and dad went over the set-list last night."

"Yeah, but I just thought-" Nick said. "I mean, this is a show to say thank you to our fans, right? So, let's play the stuff the real fans would know. The ones that've been following us from the beginning." It didn't sound completely ridiculous when he said it out loud. A little ridiculous, maybe, but Joe nodded, going for it, a smile growing on his lips.

"Yeah, I guess it's sort like… Full circle." He didn't even bring up the fact that Nick had obviously been lying about being sick, or the logistical nightmare that would be completely revamping the set list the day of a show. He just cocked his head and lifted his fist for Nick to pound. He just said, "Cool."

*

Nick's dad wasn't as easy to convince, but Nick dug his heels in until he got what he wanted. He'd kind of forgotten how it felt to do that. In the real world it was- Well, Nick knew it wasn't his fault exactly that things had worked out like they did. But it felt kind of like it was. It wasn't like he was going to ask for more when the whole family had already sacrificed so much for him. For nothing.

Which made it a little weird at rehearsals, the way people kept looking at him like they were waiting for him to give them orders. Like they pretty much expected to do what he said. It probably would have felt awesome if he'd had any idea what he was doing.

He shifted nervously backstage while their opening act, some band called Honor Society that Nick had never heard of, went on. Nick had never really been the type to get stage fright. When they'd been on the road his stomach was more likely to get tied up in knots trying to talk to a pretty girl than it was going out there in front of an audience. But rehearsal had been shitty, the timing all off, and it had been really obvious that it wasn't just because they'd thrown together this set-list at the last minute. It was Nick. It had been too long since he'd played anything much, and a lot longer since he'd played anything for anyone else. He couldn't stop thinking that there were two thousand people out there expecting a real show. They were expecting someone who'd sold out arenas, not someone who'd washed out before he even got his driver's license. He ran his hand uneasily up and down his guitar strap, readjusting it for the fifteenth time. He wondered if it was too late to try to pull out the sick card again.

Joe threw a couple fake punches at his gut that landed like quick little taps. "Get pumped!" he said, jerking Nick back and forth by the shoulders until Nick grunted and pushed him off. He kept pushing at Nick's head, his fingers catching in Nick's curls. Nick finally put up his fists and took a few punches at Joe's raised hands. They boxed at each other until Nick was breathing hard, until he was distracted by the smack of his fists into Joe's hands.

Joe reached over and wrapped his hand tight and warm around the back of Nick's neck. "You hear them?" Joe said. It was a dull roar even through the walls, the sound of screams and stomping feet. Joe grinned, a little flash of his teeth. "That's for you." He pulled their foreheads together. "Go be great."

*

Nick could feel that shitty rehearsal behind him as he walked to the stage, feel a bad show barreling toward him. But once he was standing there with a guitar slung over his shoulder, with Joe beside him leaning in to share a mic, it was like flipping a switch. Like going back in time, except they'd never played a show like this. All these people, and they weren't just happy to be there, they'd waited in a line that wrapped around the block. They knew all the words to songs off an album that had bombed, that the label didn't even believe in. They had signs, and they were screaming, and they were singing, and some of them were crying. It didn't matter that the show wasn't perfect, that Joe forgot half the lyrics to "Underdog," and Nick screwed up the intro to "6 Minutes." They could do no wrong for this crowd, and every song brought out a roar of recognition.

Nick's shirt was sticking sweaty to his back, and his ears were ringing, and it was the best thing he'd felt in a year, two years, he didn't know. It was the best thing he'd felt since he could remember. He was vibrating with it, with how amazing it was just to sing these songs he wrote, to hear all these people sing with him. He felt overloaded, the lights too bright, the bass thumping so hard under his feet. He'd sort of known he missed it, but he hadn't let himself really remember how it felt to hear his guitar wail in his hands. To have Joe's arm draped over his shoulder. To look over and see Kevin spinning on the other side of the stage. He couldn't believe he'd ever managed to convince himself that he didn't need this.

It wasn't until the encore, when Nick heard the still somewhat unfamiliar chords of "Burnin' Up" that he remembered this wasn't his. Not his song, and not his life. That this was a dream, or something like a dream. It was the first time he thought maybe he didn't want to wake up. If this was a dream, or if it was real, whatever it was. He wanted it. He wanted this.

*

There were taking a private plane, which was the most ridiculously rock star thing Nick had ever done in his life. It looked like Airforce One on the inside or something, big seats that were made of leather or close enough to leather that you couldn't tell the difference. Nick was jittery with adrenaline, his dick half hard in his jeans, his whole body still buzzing from the stage, from everything. This entire day. This entire life. Joe kept yanking at Nick's backpack while they were walking down the aisle, still keyed up from the show. Nick remembered this, the way it always took them forever to wind down after they played a good show. Kevin would get pissed off and put on his headphones to drown out their whispering. Or if they ever got a room just to themselves they'd end up practicing flips off the bed, writing new songs, singing too loudly until someone from the front desk called to tell them to keep it down.

Joe crowded up to Nick's back, his arms sliding between Nick's backpack and his shirt. His feet tangled with Nick's, tripping him up. Nick leaned back suddenly to throw him off balance. Joe caught Nick's weight with his chest and shoulders, and then he tightened his arms around Nick's backpack, pulling so Nick couldn't stand up. He started to walk them both clumsily down the aisle with Nick tilted into him, his head tipped back onto Joe's shoulder. Nick leaned back harder, his loafers skidding against the carpet, but Joe kept shoving him down the aisle. Nick grabbed at one of the seats for leverage, laughing a little under his breath, adrenaline still itchy under his skin. Joe's lips brushed against his neck soft and startling, and then Joe bit him right underneath his ear. Nick yelped and awkwardly shrugged out of the backpack. Joe grinned at him, holding Nick's backpack up in front of him like a shield when Nick pushed at him. Nick caught him with a good hard flick to his exposed belly, his fingers stinging where they'd snapped against Joe's skin. Nick laughed, stumbling back when Joe lunged at him.

"Boys," their dad snapped, tired annoyance in his voice. Nick tried to sit down in one of the seats near the front of the plane where Kevin and Frankie were getting settled, but Joe grabbed the collar of his shirt, pushed at him until they were almost at the very back. Joe tossed Nick's bag into the row behind them, and then climbed over the tops of the seats to take the window before Nick could get to it. Nick rolled his eyes.

Joe flipped the arm rests up between the seats, reaching over to buckle Nick's seatbelt for him. He pulled it painfully tight, then leaned in while Nick was fumbling to loosen it and pressed his open mouth up against the side of Nick's neck, blowing a loud raspberry. Nick laughed helplessly and pushed him away, forcing Joe's face up against the window for a second before letting him up.

Joe peeked through the dark window. He pulled the window shade down and then pushed it back up. He stood up and rooted around in the overhead compartment until he found a blanket. Nick fiddled with the TV screen in the seat in front of him, trying to make something besides a weather map show up. Joe reached over and picked out an episode of _The Office._

Nick raised an eyebrow at him. "Use your own," he said without any heat. Joe plugged his headphones into Nick's jack, and then offered Nick one of the earbuds. He spread the blanket out over both of them and snuggled into Nick's side. Nick was already pretty sweaty after the show; but he let Joe tuck them in. Let him set his head on Nick's shoulder, his body hot where he curled into Nick's side. His finger tugged at Nick's beltloop while the opening credits played.

Joe glanced over at Nick sometimes, smiling when Nick was smiling. Nudging him in the side if he wasn't, like "Get it, Nick? Do you get it?" Nick relaxed into him, snuggling close and hot under the blanket. It was nice. Just watching TV with Joe. It had been a while. He tried not to feel like Joe leaving for college was the same as leaving Nick behind, but it was kind of- He guessed it was just that he hadn't thought Joe would end up going. There hadn't been any money to send Kevin, and it wasn't like there was any money now. He'd kind of figured that Joe would end up the same way Kevin had. Get a job, stay home to save up on rent, maybe after a while get an apartment a few minutes away. Maybe after Nick graduated they could even split the rent. But then Joe had gotten a scholarship to Northwestern. Which was, you know… Great. And a million miles away. He called when he could, and it was fine. Nick got it. He was doing the acting thing like he'd always wanted. Nick was proud of him and everything. But it was pretty- Well, Nick missed him sometimes that was all.

Nick draped an arm over Joe's shoulders tugging him in closer to Nick's chest. Joe looked up at him, a little smile on his face. He nudged his face into Nick's neck. Nick let his head settle down on top of Joe's, body getting heavy as the adrenaline started to fade. Joe draped one of his legs over Nick's knee. He spread his hand on Nick's belly, scratching with his fingernails. Nick laughed at the look on Michael's face when he opened his Secret Santa present. Joe laughed too, a little late, like he was distracted. His hand moved, brushed up against Nick's crotch, right against Nick's dick where it was still chubbed up from the show. Nick tensed, his face flushing with embarrassment.

If Joe were normal he would have jerked back right away and pretended it had never happened. The decent thing to do when you accidentally groped your brother was to pretend you didn't feel anything. Joe didn't pull back though. He kind of- He kind of squeezed. He pressed his hand up into Nick's dick harder, kind of like he was doing it on purpose. Like he was feeling it out, curious or something. Nick bit his lip, his nostrils flaring. He grabbed Joe's wrist under the blanket and pulled his hand off.

"Joe-" he said.

"It's okay," Joe whispered. "They're all asleep. I checked." He leaned in and kissed Nick, his mouth hot and open. Nick made a muffled noise. His hands clenched in Joe's shirt. Joe's lips were soft, pressing in, moving plush and clinging wet. Nick's teeth scraped against Joe's bottom lip, and he realized with a start that he was kissing back. Joe's tongue slicked into Nick's mouth. Nick jerked away, his breathing shallow. His cheeks hot.

"What are you doing?" he hissed.

"Pretty self-explanatory." Joe was just kind of grinning like this was totally normal while he worked down the zipper of Nick's pants, while his fingers wrapped hot around Nick's dick. Nick's breath caught. Oh, this was not okay. This was so not- Joe was pulling on his dick, loose and slow. Nick pushed at Joe's shoulder weakly, his dick going harder. Joe pushed back against Nick's arm braced on his shoulder, strained close enough to brush their lips together lightly. "Come on," he breathed. "Relax." Nick was so sweaty under the blanket, too hot where Joe's skin pressed against him. Joe rubbed his palm over the head of Nick's dick, smearing over the wet tip. His hand slid back down, tightening up so good, moving hot on Nick's cock. Nick's hips rocked helplessly into Joe's hand.

Nick dug his fingers into Joe's shoulder, darting a glance over the tops of the seats to the front of the plane where the lights were dimmed. He felt sort of dizzy with panic, with how much he wanted- This was really- This couldn't happen. But this was- It was a dream, wasn't it? Nick's arm relaxed a little, his hand sliding up the curve of Joe's neck. He touched Joe's soft hair, thumbed the line of Joe's jaw. Of course it was a dream. It wasn't even the first time he'd dreamed kind of weird stuff about Joe. He shuddered, his hips moving unsteady and quick, pushing into Joe's hand. Joe humped against his hip, hard dick sliding, grinding, Joe's leg still thrown over his knee. Yeah, Nick thought fuzzily. It was a dream, so this was okay. You could do anything in dreams, and it didn't mean anything. Dreams were just, whatever. Everyone knew they didn't mean anything.

He leaned to press his lips to Joe's, his eyes drifting closed.

*

Nick woke up smiling, his body heavy and warm. He kept his eyes closed. There was a good dream poking around behind his eyelids. He chased it a little, trying to pick the tail end of it up again. Something about thousands of fans screaming, and the cover of _Rolling Stone_ , and Joe, and- He shifted, snuggling into the body behind him. An exhale of breath tickled the back of his neck. He cracked his eyes open. There was an arm around his waist. And this wasn't his room.

He woke up all the way with a jolt, vaguely remembering stumbling up the stairs half asleep, following Joe into his room because he didn't know this house, didn't know which one was his room. He turned his head to look back at Joe.

This was… Still a dream. Joe's arm was hot against Nick's skin, but it had to be a dream. Nick turned onto his back. He nudged into Joe with his shoulder, feeling the heat of Joe's body under his shirt. He stared at Joe's face, his eyes closed, his eyelashes dark. He watched Joe stir, his arm tightening around Nick's ribs. Watched him breathe in slowly, stared at the freckles on his nose from close up. He spread his hand out flat against Joe's chest.

Could you fall asleep during a dream? That was one of those things, like, you couldn't die in a dream and you couldn’t fall asleep. Wasn't that a thing? He could feel Joe breathing. Feel his heartbeat thud under Nick's fingers. There was no way this was real. It was too- Just everything. The fans, and the hit records- Joe wanting him like that. It wasn't real. Real life didn't work like that. None of it could possibly be real, except Joe's knee was knobby where it pressed bent against Nick's thigh, and his arm was heavy against Nick's ribs.

Nick pressed his fingers to the scar between Joe's eyes, right on the bridge of his nose. Joe didn't have a scar there. He touched Joe's head, dug his fingers into Joe's hair until he found the scar near the back of his skull. He'd fallen off the monkey bars. Nick remembered there'd been a bunch of blood, and their mom had screamed. But this... He traced over the scar between Joe's eyebrows again. It was a deep one. He didn't know how Joe had gotten it. If this was a dream, why would Joe have a scar there?

Joe's eyes blinked open. Nick froze, and then sheepishly curled his fingers, took back his hand. Joe smiled sleepily at him. "Hey," he said. He snuggled his face into the curve of Nick's neck. "You're in my bed." It sounded muffled against Nick's skin, sounded so happy. Sounded a little surprised. Which seemed weird considering what'd happened on the plane. That was definitely not the first time Joe had done that stuff with whoever passed for Nick in this place. In this dream, Nick reminded himself a little uneasily.

Joe wiggled against Nick's body, wiggled himself over so he was lying half on top of Nick. He pressed his lips eagerly to the underside of Nick's chin, to his jaw. Nick could feel the hard line of his dick nudging against Nick's thigh. He was heavy, and his teeth nipped sharply at Nick's collarbone, and it felt so real. He looked up at Nick, his eyes a little unfocused without his glasses. His hands were tracing Nick's ribs under his shirt. Nick pushed the hair back from Joe's face where his messy curls were flopping down into his eyes. He smiled and wiggled again, rubbing against Nick's hard-on. Nick's breath caught in the back of his throat. Joe smiled wider.

He started to slide down Nick's body, still looking at Nick with his eyebrows raised a little like he was asking him a question. Moving slowly like he was giving Nick time to stop him. Nick didn't stop him. He nuzzled Nick's belly, his chin scraping against Nick's skin. "Can I-" He mouthed at Nick's boxers, his breath damp through the thin fabric. "Can I please?" He didn't wait for Nick's answer before he was tugging at Nick's underwear. His mouth when he went down on Nick was hot, impossibly soft inside. Nick tensed, his breath going gaspy as the head of his dick nudged against the roof of Joe's mouth. He'd never- There were a couple girls at school, but they'd never- Not with their mouths.

Nick propped himself up on his elbows, watching disbelieving as his dick slid between Joe's lips. Joe's face was flushed, his cheeks pinked up, his mouth stretched around the slide of Nick's dick. It was the dirtiest thing Nick had ever seen in his life. Nick's hips jerked, his dick flexing against Joe's tongue. Joe's hand settled on his thigh, holding him down when he tried to squirm against the hot, urgent ache winding in him. Nick flopped back down onto the pillow, his eyes squinching shut. He whimpered high in his throat, his hips still trying to move. Joe snickered, his breath fluttering against Nick's skin.

This wasn't- It didn't feel anything like his hand. It didn't feel like anything he'd ever felt before. The porn he'd seen was nothing like the slick, hot inside of Joe's mouth, like Joe's fingers digging into his skin, Joe's hands holding him down. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real, but then where had it come from? It couldn't have come from him, from the inside of his head. He never could have imagined how it felt, the eager swipe of Joe's tongue and the press of Nick's cock into the pocket of his cheek. The little coughing sound he made when Nick shot off inside his mouth.

Nick gasped for breath, trembling. It couldn't be real. It couldn't.

"You could have warned me," Joe complained, but he was still smiling. He crawled back up Nick's body, hovered over him on bent elbows and knees. Nick touched his slick mouth with shaky fingers, felt the heat of his breath. He leaned to press his swollen lips to Nick's, stroked inside with his hot tongue. None of this could be real, except he tasted like rank morning breath and jizz.

"Oh." Nick flinched back, grimacing. This didn't feel like a dream.

Joe looked at him, his head cocked. "What, now it's gross?" He snorted, and kissed Nick again, his tongue slick sour in Nick's mouth. "Whatever, weirdo," he said fondly. He flopped over on his back, stripping off his boxers and tossing them at the end of the bed. He motioned to his dick grandly. "My turn," he said.

Nick looked blankly at his dick for a second. It was flushed dark, wet at the tip, kind of thick and veiny.

Joe groaned pathetically. "I know you said when we got home we couldn't anymore, but you can't wait until after you get off to decide you're going to stick to your guns." He licked his hand and then started to jerk himself impatiently. Nick stared at his hand moving. "Come on," Joe said. "Please? Just- Just use your hand. It doesn't really count."

He was looking at Nick with these big begging eyes, looking at Nick like he wanted Nick so much. Nick reached over cautiously and wrapped his hand around Joe's dick. It was distractingly hot in his hand, vividly hot and all slippery and real. He let go like it burned him, rubbing his hand roughly against his hip.

"Nick!" Joe whined.

"I can't-" Nick said, scooting backwards. Joe caught his wrist, and held on.

"Wait," he said. "Just- You don't have to do anything, just- Can you stay?"

Damn it, why was Nick so bad at saying no to him? He hesitated uncomfortably, Joe's hand tight on his wrist, and Joe looking at him flushed and desperate, and- And- Whatever. If Nick was going to hell, it was too late anyway. He'd let Joe suck him off, done all that stuff with him on the plane. Just sitting there while Joe jerked it was hardly even that bad compared to the stuff he'd already done.

Joe kept one hand on Nick's wrist, his other fist working fast and slick over his dick. He was staring at Nick while he did it. Looking at Nick like Nick was porn. Like Nick just sitting there, not even doing anything was the hottest thing in the world. Nick could feel Joe looking at his mouth, at the sliver of belly where Nick's shirt had ridden up. Nick tugged his shirt down, his face red. And it was so weird because this Joe looked so much like the real Joe, except for the fact that Nick's Joe didn't look at him like that. Would never look at him like that.

Nick self-consciously didn't meet Joe's eyes. It felt like Nick was lying to him just by letting him do this. Just by pretending to be the person he did this stuff with. The person who'd written the songs on their albums and toured with him on that sold out tour. The Nick this Joe knew was obviously just- Better. If he knew who Nick really was, he wouldn't have been looking at him like that.

Joe's fingers dug into Nick's wrist, his breath catching as he started to come. Nick didn't watch, his eyes carefully trained on the corner of Joe's dresser, his breath coming a little too fast. When Joe let him go, Nick scrambled off the bed, darted for the door.

"Nick!" Joe called after him, sounding frustrated. "You climbed into my bed, remember?"

*  
It didn't take Nick too long to find his room. The Yankees stuff on the walls had been a dead giveaway. He looked around a little, sifting through the desk drawers, poking around in the closet. Apparently he was really into cardigans. There were a couple guitars propped up on racks in the corner of the room. One of them was a glossy new Fender, but he recognized the acoustic. He picked it up, and strummed a G. Yep, the same shitty guitar he'd used to write Mandy. He put it back down. He felt kind of- He didn't know. Almost mad, like finding out someone stole your stuff or something. Which was dumb because he was basically right in the middle of stealing this Nick's entire life. He wondered where the Nick all this stuff belonged to was. Was he just gone? Was that other Nick in the real world? Waking up in the room Nick shared with Frank, finding out he had to go to actual school, finding out he had a shitty job at the mall on weekends.

Thinking about it just made him madder. It was bad enough he was a loser. He didn't need some freaking _Rolling Stone_ cover boy poking around in every failure. He viciously hoped that the other Nick was just gone. That there was no Nick in the real world anymore. Probably no one would even care.

He dug through the dresser to find some jeans and a t-shirt. There was a testing kit in the top drawer. He checked his levels absently. They were high, of course. Not really scary bad, but he had to get on top of his treatment. If this wasn't a dream, the last thing he needed was to go into insulin shock or slip into a freaking coma or something. He rifled around in the bathroom looking for insulin. He wondered if there was a way to ask Joe about the Omnipod thing without it seeming super weird. He kind of doubted it.

Kevin rapped on the doorframe smartly. Nick startled, banging his head on an open cabinet door when he tried to stand up. He rubbed the bump, gritting his teeth.

Kevin's eyebrows rose at the mess Nick had scattered all over the floor, but all he said was "You better clean that up before mom sees." He knocked his knuckle against the door frame again. "Have you talked to Joe this morning?"

"Uh," Nick said, trying desperately to think about anything besides Joe's mouth on his dick. It was like the harder he tried not to think about it, the more he thought about every inappropriate thing. Like all he could think about was coming inside Joe's mouth, about Joe's dick so hot in his hand when he touched it. He could feel the blush rushing up his neck, sweat beading on his back. He didn't want to look, but he was pretty sure he was hard. "Haven't seen him," he finally choked out, his voice a cracked whisper. He ducked down to pick some of the mess up off the floor, hiding his red face, avoiding Kevin's gaze.

"He's acting all pouty," Kevin said, and even without looking Nick could tell he was rolling his eyes. "See if you can find out why on the way over to the studio because the last thing I want to do is deal with one of his moods. You know how impossible he can be."

Nick stared at the mouthwash bottle in his hand, a bubble of panic building in the back of his throat. How the hell was he supposed to bluff his way through a studio session? There was no way he'd get away with it. Especially when he'd supposedly written these songs. Especially if people were going to be looking at him like they had in rehearsals yesterday, like they expected him to take charge. He had to get out of it. He had to do something. He put his hand on his throat and winced, looking up at Kevin and whispering, "I can't do the studio. My voice-"

Kevin's eyes widened. "That sucks. Are you sure you don't just need some throat coat, or…"

Nick shook his head "no," trying his best to look regretful.

Kevin grimaced. "Dad is going to be-" He stopped abruptly. "Anyway," he said. "I'll tell him. You go get some tea or some cough drops or something." He touched Nick on the shoulder. "And try to fix Joe if you see him. Use sign language if you have to."

*

Joe was in the kitchen, stabbing at the center of a Pop-tart with a fork. He looked up at Nick and flashed a tentative smile. Nick gave him an equally tentative wave, and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

Joe pushed the chair next to him out in Nick's direction, his eyebrows raised. Nick sat down self-consciously. He took the apple Joe rolled in his direction, but didn't bite into it. He still felt like he was on the edge of panicking, trapped and overwhelmed and sick to his stomach. Definitely not hungry. He started gulping down the water instead. "So. Laryngitis, huh?" Joe said. He gave Nick a look like, you sure had your voice earlier when I was sucking you off.

Nick flushed bright red, averting his eyes. "Yeah," he whispered hoarsely, fiddling with the ring of plastic around the lip of the water bottle. "Guess I overdid it. The tour and everything."

Joe's eyes narrowed a little, but he just tapped his foot on Nick's chair under the table. "Right," he said, noncommittally. He took the apple back from Nick's hand, leaning close to touch Nick's wrist and say, "You know I'm not gonna rat you out, so just-"

He cut himself off, sitting back in his chair as their dad came hustling in with Kevin close behind. "-won't be a total waste," he was saying. "We'll just have him record the drums, and that guitar bit we needed." He flicked a glance in Joe's direction. "Joe can still finish up his vocals. It's not ideal, but…" He shrugged.

Nick clenched his hands in his lap, hiding the way his fingers were trembling. He couldn’t lay down drum and guitar tracks on songs he didn't know any more than he could sing them. He tried to keep the dread off his face.

"You can do that, right, Nick?" their dad said, meeting Nick's eyes and using the tone that meant he didn't expect any disagreement. "Because the studio time is paid for, and you're not really sick, are you?" Somehow it came off more like he was telling than asking. "It's just your voice."

"I-" Nick said, keeping his voice a low whisper. "I don't think I can-" He twisted a little in his seat, pinned down by his dad's sharp stare.

"There are a lot of people counting on us," he said, but what Nick heard was "counting on you." His dad frowned. "I raised you boys to be professional." His voice was deadly quiet and the look of disappointment on his face was so familiar, the most familiar thing in this entire unfamiliar place. Nick's hands clenched and unclenched. He felt shaky all over, like his chest was too tight, like he couldn't get a breath.

"He's sick," Joe said loudly. "Look at him. He looks like he's about to throw up or fall over. He probably has the flu, and you want him to go play the drums? Why not ask him to run a 5K too?"

"Joseph," their dad said warningly, his voice hard. "This is between me and your brother."

Joe kept arguing, and Kevin tried to jump in the middle, and their father's voice was loud and angry, and Nick couldn't breathe. He couldn't- He stood up numbly, and walked out of the room.

"Nicholas," his dad barked. "We are not done here."

He could hear footsteps behind him, and he just couldn't take a lecture right now. He couldn't. He broke into a run, clattering through a couple unfamiliar hallways until he found a door that led outside. He dashed halfway down the long driveway before he hesitated, the fact that he didn't know where to run, that he had no idea where he even was, catching up with him. Plus there was a giant gate that he didn't have the code for.

He turned back helplessly, and almost got knocked into the yard by Joe colliding hard with his chest. His arms circled Nick's body in a fierce hug, clinging tightly. Nick breathed into the curve of his neck, letting Joe hold him, standing stiffly because it felt like if he relaxed an inch maybe his whole body would just fold in on itself. One of Nick's hands came up to pat Joe's back, to settle at the nape of his neck.

"Hey," Nick said, not bothering to pretend whisper. "Do you want to get out of here?"

*

"Dad's totally going to kill us," Joe said, and then he laughed out loud, sort of half delighted and half hysterical. He kept one hand on the steering wheel while he fished an iPhone out of his pocket and tossed it into Nick's lap. "Send him a text that we'll be back in a few hours so he doesn't call the police. And then turn it off, or it'll never stop ringing."

Nick fat-fingered it a couple times before he managed to type out a short message. His hands still felt pretty trembly, like he was overdosed on adrenaline.

"Did you want to go somewhere specific?" Joe said gently.

"No, I just-" Nick said. "I didn't want to be there."

Joe glanced over at him from the driver's seat as they took a right turn. "Not to discourage this side of you because I'm really into the fact that apparently playing hooky is a thing you do now. But seriously, Nick." His voice lowered, going intent. "What's going on with you?"

"Nothing," Nick said automatically.

Joe gave him a blatantly disbelieving look. "Are you sure you aren't really sick?" he said. "Because you look pretty crappy."

"Thanks," Nick said sarcastically. He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He did feel kind of like he was about to throw up. He took a deep breath, trying to loosen the tense knot in his stomach.

"I just mean you're so pale. You have this sickly glow to your-"

"I'm fine," Nick interrupted. He took another breath. "I was lying." He motioned to his throat. "Obviously."

"Yeah." Joe looked at Nick again, not paying nearly enough attention to the road. "What's up with that?" He reached over and casually set a hand on Nick's knee. Nick flinched, startled by the low pulse of want that kicked through him. Joe immediately jerked his hand away, set it back on the steering wheel. His hands tightened at 10 and 2, his jaw ticking. There was an awkward silent moment, and then Joe said, "Let me help." He didn't look over this time, kept his eyes on the road. "Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

The dumbest part was Nick wanted to. Thought about blurting out every ridiculous thing that had been running through his head for the past two days. That he was an imposter. That this was a dream, or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was time travel. An alternate universe. Maybe he'd been abducted by aliens. Maybe this was T _he Matrix_.

Best case scenario, Joe would think he was crazy. He probably was crazy.

But at least he wouldn't be alone with it anymore.

"Do you ever think what life would be like if this all just went away?" Nick said hesitantly. "The fame and everything?"

"Sometimes. Mostly when I'm running on two hours sleep and people are screaming in my face." Joe grinned.

"I'm serious. Do you ever think about, like… What if we'd never been picked up by Disney, or if something happened, if we lost the record contract or-"

"Nick," Joe interrupted. He looked at Nick like Nick was making him sad. "No matter what dad says, it's not the end of the world if we're a couple days late finishing the album. Disney isn't going to drop us if you take one day to yourself." He hesitated, but then reached over and roughed his hand firmly through Nick's hair. "You can give yourself a break sometimes."

Nick looked down at his hands in his lap, lacing his fingers together, squeezing them. He didn't think he and Joe were both having the same conversation, but it was probably just as well. "I don't know," he said quietly. Joe's fingers slid slowly through Nick's hair again. "A million people want what we have." The "we" felt weird in his mouth. "How come we're the ones who have it?"

He half expected Joe to say luck or fate or one in a million chances, but he turned to look at Nick as they pulled up to a red light. "Because you're fucking amazing," he said, cursing bluntly. "Because I've never known anyone as talented as you."

Nick knew he was really talking about the other Nick, but he felt his cheeks flush hot anyway. Nick shook his head, angry and embarrassed and a little pleased all at once. He tugged at the curls over his forehead, looking out the window, biting down on his lips to hide the stupid smile that he shouldn't have been smiling when Joe wasn't even talking to him, not really.

Joe hand cupped the back of Nick's head. He turned Nick's face toward him, pulling him close the way he had before the show at the Fillmore, their foreheads almost touching. "I love that we can fill arenas, and that people buy our music." His hand tightened on Nick's neck. "But if they didn't, it wouldn't make you any less amazing." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You know that, right?" His fingers were hot on Nick's skin, and he was staring into Nick's eyes. Nick felt his cheeks go even redder, felt prickly hot all over, his heart hammering erratically in his chest. His hand wrapped around Joe's wrist. His gaze drifted slowly down to Joe's mouth. He could just lean in, just a little and-

Someone blasted their horn, and Nick sat back with a jerk. Joe blinked like he was coming awake.

The light was green.

*

"What are we doing here?" Nick said skeptically as Joe ushered him into a music store. He was tired, still kind of sick to his stomach, and he was pretty sure the last thing he wanted to be around right now was a bunch of pianos and guitars and saxophones. Well, the next to last thing anyway. After his dad.

"Just hanging out," Joe said, his finger trailing over a drum set. He grabbed an acoustic guitar off the wall, strumming it as he walked deeper into the store. He craned his neck around like he was looking for someone. Probably a bunch of screaming teenaged girls, Nick realized with a snort. It was the middle of a weekday and the place was pretty deserted, just one guy with headphones plugged in, jamming quietly on electric guitar. The cashier looked up idly from the magazine he was reading, and then went back to ignoring them. Joe sat down at a piano in the back of the store.

"Play me something new," Joe said, handing Nick the guitar. "Something I haven't heard before."

Nick tried to hand the guitar back. He didn't really write music anymore. Sometimes there was a melody that tried to stick, but he didn't let himself put anything to paper. He couldn't really shut off the music in his head, not completely, but he tried not to listen.

He played the first couple bars of "Superstition," rolling his eyes. Joe frowned at him. He kicked Nick's foot with his sneaker. "Come on," he said. "It's just me."

Nick heaved a sigh, strumming a few random chords. His head was really pounding. Joe looked at him stubbornly, his eyebrows knit together, and Joe was his ride, and whatever got him out of here the fastest- He shook his head and started to play something that had been bouncing around aimlessly in his head for the past couple weeks. He hummed a little with the melody where there would be words if he had any, half of a song flowing out of him before he'd really realized it. He stuttered to a stop, feeling horribly exposed.

Joe was grinning at him, his smile wide and warm and so proud it made Nick's throat go tight. "You see?" he said smugly. He reached over to pluck one of the guitar strings, looking up at Nick through his eyelashes. "You're amazing."

Nick ducked his head down over the guitar, blinking hard. Joe started to pick out the song's chorus on the piano, singing a couple nonsense lines. His voice sounded really great even if he was singing about falling in love with an outer space waitress, and he was so excited about something Nick had done… Not the other Nick, just him. And it was really- It was really weird. It was really- It felt awesome.

*

"Oh, come on," Joe protested. "That was so good!" He sang the line again, his voice going wobbly with laughter on the part about eating you up with a spork. He was already typing it into his iPhone, where he'd been putting down the lyrics as they came up with them.

Nick snatched the phone out of his hand and deleted the last line. He was laughing too, felt like he couldn't stop laughing, so many words and melodies rushing up in him. He felt really light-headed, the tiny text blurring a little as he typed. "Yeah," he said. "You're not taking my awesome song and making it about cannibalism. And that doesn't even rhyme." He typed in always coming up short and held it up for Joe to read.

Joe wrinkled up his nose, shrugging. "Pretty good, I guess." He nudged into Nick a couple times with his shoulder to make sure Nick knew he was kidding. And then he started belting out the new lyrics at the top of his lungs. Nick darted a nervous glance over at the cashier, who'd been giving them the stink-eye for a while now. He glanced at his watch, startled to see they'd been there for almost three hours. They probably needed to leave, but it was just- It had been so long since he'd felt like this. That rush of a song clicking into place, everything just working, music swelling up so easily like it was a gift. It had been a long time since he'd felt like he could make something really good, like he had that in him. And he didn't have to feel bad about it, or guilty, like still wanting any of this after he'd already blown his chance at a career made him the worst, the most selfish-

Joe danced in his seat on the piano bench, clumsily twirling a couple drumsticks he'd picked up somewhere, and pressing down on the keyboard pedals with his feet even though he wasn't actually playing right now. He was smiling at Nick like Nick was the greatest thing. He poked Nick in the arm with one of the drum sticks, and started singing again, trying out a key change on the pre-chorus. Nick kind of wanted to lunge at him and squeeze him and sing as loud as he could right into Joe's ear and never stop singing. He felt like he could do this for another three hours. He didn't need to sleep or eat or ever stop. His heart was racing, his hands a little shaky on the guitar strings. It was just- It had been a long time since he'd felt like it was okay to let any of this stuff out. He felt like he could float up to the ceiling on a loud burst of song any second now, like Joe's thigh pressed against his leg was the only thing keeping him on the ground.

*

"You need to eat," Joe said when they finally got kicked out the store. Nick had barely managed to stop himself from begging Joe to buy him a guitar on the way out, just so he could keep playing it in the car. Nick was pretty hungry though, starving actually, now that he thought about it. Really thirsty too. Which was his own fault for running out of the house like a crazy person this morning. His levels were probably totally whack. As soon as they got home he was going to get Joe to help him with the Omnipod.

He hummed distractedly, his hands tapping out a bass line on his thighs, the song still swelling out of him. He watched Joe give their order at the drive-thru. Joe had really long eyelashes. Nick watched them sweep down against Joe's cheek and then back up again. It seemed like it took a long time, everything sort of brittle and too bright.

Nick ate his burger in huge bites on the way home, gobbling down fries like he hadn't eaten in a week. He licked salt from his fingers and stared at Joe, watched his hands spread on the steering wheel with sunlight coming in through the windshield, catching in the dark hairs on his arm. Joe was saying things, something about how they had two weeks of vacation coming up before they started working on the TV show, but Nick was only hearing little bits of it. Kept losing his train of thought, his attention catching jaggedly on the way the air conditioner blew against his neck, cold. On the flash of sunlight off a gleaming car window. On the curve of Joe's ear sticking out a little where he'd tucked his hair back behind it. Nick gave up on trying to follow the conversation and just stared at Joe's mouth, at his lips moving. He felt weird, like everything was a little bit farther away than he thought, like the opposite of a rearview mirror. Everything felt not quite real. More like a dream than anything had since he first woke up in a hotel bed in Miami. It made Nick feel unsettled, nervous, like everything was shifting under him. Like maybe he was waking up.

Joe laughed as they pulled into the garage, his tongue flicking out to herd his straw back into his mouth. "You're so spaced out," he said, taking a long sip of soda. "Were you even listening to me?" His mouth was wide and he was smiling, laughing. Nick laughed too, watching Joe swallow. He could see a small patch of stubble on the underside of Joe's jaw that he'd missed shaving. Nick reached over and ran his fingers over the rough patch, feeling it drag against his skin like something real. Joe's breath caught under his fingertips.

Nick curled a hand in Joe's collar, pulled him in over the gearshift, his skin hot against the backs of Nick's fingers. His mouth was disconcertingly familiar when Nick pressed their lips together. The slant of his chin, and the easy way his lips parted. Joe made a muffled sound into Nick's mouth and pulled back, his hand braced against Nick's shoulder. He was still sort of leaning in, his head tilted, his eyes heavy on Nick's mouth, but he said, "No, you can't-" His lips twisted unhappily. "You said we couldn't anymore, when we got home. And this morning…" He rushed on. "And it's okay, if that's what you- If you don't want to anymore, with me. But then you can't-" He looked at Nick, wounded. "You can't be sleeping in my bed. And you can't kiss me. You can't keep changing your mind." His jaw firmed. "It's not fair."

Nick's thumb slid along Joe's collarbone, dragging against his skin. It wasn't fair. It was all so not fair. That some other Nick was living every dream he'd ever had. That some other Nick got everything. Nick was intensely aware that any minute now whatever this was could reverse, and that other Nick would have his life back. That maybe it was already happening. And then Nick would be alone in New Jersey, in stupid high school. Without anything. It wasn't fair.

His hand tightened in Joe's shirt as Joe started to lean back. He kissed Joe hard, a little desperate, a little too rough, their mouths crushing clumsily together, his teeth catching on Joe's lower lip. He could feel Joe's heartbeat racing under his fingers where they pressed shakily against the side of Joe's throat. Joe mumbled into his mouth, tried to say, "Nick." He still had one of his hands braced against Nick's shoulder, but his mouth opened eagerly.

Nick kissed him in fierce surges, fighting against his seatbelt to get closer. He just- He needed to get close. Needed to touch Joe's skin, to hold onto him, pin him down under Nick's weight and hope that would be enough to keep him from disappearing like a fading dream. Joe's hands slid up under Nick's shirt, pawing at his ribs, his back, spread wide, cold from the soda he'd been holding. Nick was shivering, shivering down to his bones.

He managed to get his seatbelt unclicked, and started climbing awkwardly into Joe's lap. His hands grasped desperately at Joe's waist, his tongue chasing the wet heat inside Joe's mouth. He needed to get Joe's shirt off, needed to press himself against all of Joe's skin. He had his leg halfway thrown over the seat before Joe stopped kissing him long enough to breathlessly say, "Backseat."

Joe followed Nick into the back, urging him with pushy hands. There was a little room to stretch out, the two of them lying on the seat, legs bent, hands grasping at each other as they kissed. Everything went spinny, kind of dizzy, when Nick rolled them over so he was lying on top of Joe. He trembled against Joe's hot skin, pinning him down. He pushed at Joe's shirt, pushed it up so it was bunched under his armpits. "Hold on," Joe panted, squirming, trying to stop kissing Nick long enough to get the shirt over his head. Nick grunted, giving up on the shirt, threading possessive hands through Joe's hair, kissing him and kissing him until his lips felt puffy, tender. Joe clutched at Nick's back, made raw sounds against his mouth. Nick's hips rocked against Joe's, his dick rubbing against the hard bulge of Joe's cock.

Joe's legs spread around him, his knees bent on either side of Nick's body, his wet mouth panting open. Nick pressed his sweaty forehead against Joe's cheek, grinding his hips. Everything was sort of blurry, his breath coming in hard gasps. He bit down on Joe's skin, listening to the choked sounds Joe made. He sucked at Joe's collarbone, knowing he was leaving marks. Knowing vaguely that he shouldn't, but he wanted to see himself on Joe's skin. He wanted to know that if the other Nick did come back, he'd see those marks too. He'd know he hadn't been the one to put them there. Joe's hands were sweaty against Nick's ribs, his hips rutting restlessly, hard dick pressing. He moaned, his back arching when Nick dug his fingers into Joe's chest, set his mouth against Joe's throat.

Nick glanced through the window to the door of the garage, the door that led to the house, the door that their parents could walk through any minute. At least Joe had tinted windows on his car, the thinnest illusion of privacy. Nick felt like it should have made him want to stop, how easy it would be to get caught. But he couldn't hold on to the thought, couldn't focus on anything, his attention flitting from one strangely vivid detail to the next, fixated for a moment on the way the seat leather stuck to his sweaty arm, the blunt drag of Joe's fingernails against his skin. The rough, addictive slide of his dick against Joe's, making the sharp ache inside him worse with every shove of his hips. Joe's lips clinging hungrily when he kissed him. Couldn't focus on anything but the frantic need to feel Joe's skin under his hands, to taste the inside of Joe's mouth. He fumbled between them to get his zipper down, get at his cock. He couldn't make his fingers work right. He touched Joe through his pants instead, felt the way his dick strained, firm under Nick's fingers. Joe made a frustrated whining sound and reached to help Nick jerk his pants down just enough to get his cock out. He wriggled his jeans down too, the two of them rocking against each other, cocks sliding between their bodies.

Nick closed his eyes, everything swirling, so dizzy as Joe's pressed their cocks together in the circle of his fist, his breathing loud in the quiet car. His dick pushed silky hot, slick against Nick's, tight in Joe's hand. Nick's hands fisted on the seat leather, pulled at the collar of Joe's shirt. He shuddered helplessly, his hips jerking, buried his forehead in the curve of Joe's neck. He bit down on Joe's bunched up shirt as he came, his spine locked up around the overwhelming, jagged pulse of it; the rest of the world going sort of soft around the edges, fuzzy.

Joe milked the last spurt of come from Nick's cock, his hand sliding easier now, his dick still moving slippery against Nick's. Nick's arms gave out and he sprawled limply, squashing Joe underneath him. He shivered against Joe's hot chest, panting into Joe's neck, wrung out. Dizzy. Joe gave up on jerking it, his hand too cramped between them to move. He rocked against Nick, working himself off on Nick's come-slick belly. He made a rough noise as he started to come. Nick watched him from too close up, the way his teeth gritted, the way his neck strained.

Nick clutched weakly at Joe's chest. He was shaking. Couldn't catch his breath. Joe's hand stroked slowly through Nick's sweaty hair over and over, taking Nick's weight on top of him without complaint. He pressed a kiss to the side of Nick's head.

"We should probably go inside," Joe said finally.

"Okay," Nick said. He made no move to climb off Joe. "In a sec." He felt so dizzy, felt like his whole body was still trembling. Felt so heavy, like he could fall asleep right here. Joe's hand stroked soothingly down his back. He buried his face in Joe's chest. Joe pet his hand down Nick's back again, dragged his fingers across the nape of Nick's neck.

"If we don't show up soon, Dad really will call the police."

Nick tensed. He didn't feel like he was ready to face his dad. Hell, he didn't feel like he was ready to stand up. He definitely wasn't ready for his dad.

He reminded himself that this wasn't even really his dad, but it didn't help much. He was just like Nick's dad, and if he was kind of disappointed in Nick here, where everything had gone so right; then Nick didn't even want to think about how he probably felt about Nick in the real world. He pushed himself up on one arm. It seemed like it took a lot of effort.

Joe started to untangle himself from Nick's body, scooting out from under him. Nick sat all the way up, watching blankly while Joe rummaged around in the backs of the seats until he came up with a handful of napkins. He stared at the tanned skin of Joe's belly as Joe wiped away the shiny, wet trails of come from his skin. Joe took Nick's hand, licked come from his palm with a warm swipe of his tongue. Nick watched mesmerized by the pink flick of it between his lips, by the drag of it over his skin. He could feel his cheeks burning with blotchy heat. Joe ran his hands through Nick's hair, straightening out the mess he'd made. Nick clumsily tugged Joe's shirt down, tried to fix his collar where it was all stretched out. He could see the faint mark of a new bruise starting on the curve of Joe's shoulder. He tugged at Joe's shirt again, trying futilely to cover it up. Nick scrubbed at his hands with one of the napkins. He felt like there was still come on his hands, on his clothes. Like the smell was clinging to him. Like anyone would be able to tell what they'd been doing. He took a breath, tried to steady himself.

"Just let me do the talking," Joe said.

Right. He was supposed to have laryngitis, Nick reminded himself. Joe was saying something about being legally an adult. And what were their parents going to do, ground them? But Nick was having trouble concentrating. He watched the way Joe's lips curved around the words, plump and swollen. His heart was racing. He still hadn't quite caught his breath.

"Ready?" Joe said. He smiled at Nick encouragingly. His teeth were very white in the dim light.

Nick nodded even though he felt like he was still shaking, little tremors shuddering through him. His legs were wobbly under him when he climbed out of the car. He was so not ready for this.

*

The yelling started right away. Everyone was yelling, even Kevin a little. Even their mom. Mainly their dad though. And Joe, getting in his face, loud and unapologetic, trying to take the heat. It made Nick feel like he should yell something too, just anything really. But he'd never been that good at standing up to his dad. And he felt so weird, everything sort of dim and far away. He was having a hard time following the argument, like he could hear the words but he'd forgotten what any of those sounds meant. He kept staring at the way his dad's cheeks had gotten so red. At the vein throbbing on his temple.

"This is not acceptable." He heard that part, and then a bunch of other things that sort of washed over him. And, "We expect better from you, Nicholas." And,"…selfish, irresponsible..."

He heard his teeth screech, grinding together. The harsh sound startled him. He felt hot all over, but he was shaking like he was cold.

"We're very disappointed in you," their dad said, and hearing it was like hearing someone tell you the sky is blue or the earth is round or your hair is curly. It wasn't something his own dad, his real dad, ever said to him, but it was there. So obvious. Like the color of the sky. It wasn't a surprise. Hearing it out loud shouldn't have felt like anything really. But Nick's head was suddenly pounding so hard it felt like his vision was vibrating. His hands curled into fists, a hot roaring in his ears. He had the wild urge to scream something, something he would never yell at his own dad, but since this wasn't his dad maybe it was okay if he did. Something like, "Is there some point where it would actually be enough for you? If I won a Grammy, or if I sold 20 million records? 50 million? What would it take?"

He could tell by the way Kevin's mouth dropped open, by the worried look their mom shot him and the way Nick's throat felt rough like screaming that he must have actually done it, said it. He was so dizzy. His vision felt strangely narrow, like looking down a long tunnel, the edges all grey, fuzzy. His knees buckled, and he sat down abruptly on the floor. Watched that grey close in on his dad's frown. He could dimly hear a commotion, and Joe was on his knees in front of him. Nick stared into his panicked face, thinking, Don't- Don't-, as everything went black.

*

Nick lay still as pain slowly started to filter to him. He felt sore all over, like coming out of a fever, exhausted even though he must have been asleep for a while. His back hurt. His throat felt scraped raw. He pried his eyes open warily. There was an IV taped to his arm. He looked at the softly beeping machine next to his bed, at the sterile wall he was facing. He hated hospitals. He forced himself to think, his brain moving sluggishly. He vaguely remembered fighting with his dad, feeling really dizzy, and then pretty much nothing. He must have fainted or…

There was an arm circled around his waist, a warm body behind him. He turned his head carefully, his temples throbbing. Joe's was breathing openmouthed against the crook of his shoulder, crammed into the tiny hospital bed with him. Joe was here. Nick let out a shaky breath, relief making his vision go a little watery. For a second, he'd thought maybe this was… He shifted around under Joe's arm. His hands felt weird, trembly and weak, clumsy, like he'd forgotten a little bit how to use them. But he ran his palm over the stubble on Joe's chin, reassured by the way it scraped against his skin, the way it felt real. He pressed his thumb to Joe's bottom lip. Joe stirred, murmuring sleepily.

Nick leaned in and kissed him softly. Joe's eyelashes fluttered, his mouth slanting under Nick's, and then he was jerking back, almost falling off the bed. He had a hand pressed to Nick's chest, holding him gently away, and Nick noticed with growing horror that his hair was shorter than it had been the last time Nick had seen him. That he didn't have a scar on the bridge of his nose.

Nick gasped once, his breath catching. The disappointment felt like a blow, like it hit right in the middle of his chest.

"I'm awake," he said stupidly. Nick could feel the tears leaking from his eyes, but he was too tired, too shocked to stop them.

"You're awake," Joe breathed softly. His eyes were wide and glittery bright. It made Nick feel a little better about crying like a big baby. Joe rubbed a thumb against Nick's wet cheek, his hand fisting in Nick's thin hospital gown. He pulled Nick toward him, holding him hard to Joe's chest. "You're awake," he said, his voice breaking.

Nick took a shuddery breath against his shoulder, trying to get his bearings. His fingers dug into Joe's shirt. "You're s'posed to be in school?" Nick mumbled groggily.

"Yeah, well," Joe said. "You were supposed to not be in a coma for two days."

Nick blinked, surprised. And then kind of- Not. It was weird though, the way the coma dream didn't fade like a regular dream. It just sat there, as real in his head as the math test he'd taken last week. But maybe that's what comas were like.

"You have to take better care of yourself," Joe said, his voice kind of strange, like he wanted to be yelling but he was forcing himself not to. "Your levels were over 700 when they brought you in. You know that doesn't just happen overnight. You must have really-"

"Your classes," Nick said. His voice kept coming out half slurred. Couldn't get his mouth and his brain to both work at the same time. He was pretty sure it was Friday today, and Joe's break wasn't until the end of next week so he'd already missed a few days then- "And s'gonna screw up your scholarship, or-"

"You let me worry about that," Joe said. He kept touching Nick, his hands pressing carefully against Nick's arms, his neck, his hair like he was making sure Nick wasn't broken anywhere. Like he was making sure Nick was real. Nick kind of knew the feeling.

Joe stroked the backs of his curled fingers over the curve of Nick's cheek. "You're awake, he said again. He was staring at Nick, his eyes intent, his thumb gliding along the line of Nick's jaw. It made Nick feel squirmy inside, made him think with sudden embarrassment about kissing. He should probably apologize… for before. But Joe hadn't said anything. And Nick figured maybe he'd earned one free pass cause- Coma. Joe probably thought he was just confused. Which he had been, so there was really no reason to bring it up. He just had to make sure it didn't happen again. He squinted. The light was stabbing painfully straight into his brain, and thinking still felt like trying to swim through mud.

"Nick?" Joe said. His fingers scratched lightly at Nick's scalp. Nick's hair felt really gross, greasy, but Joe didn't seem to care. "I'm going to get the doctor, okay? I'll be right back. I'll find mom and dad. They're in the cafeteria, I think." He touched his lips to Nick's forehead.

Nick grabbed his arm before he could scoot back. "Could we just lie here?" Nick said. "Just for a second?"

"I'm sure there are some tests they need to run," Joe started doubtfully. "They need to make sure all your brain parts are working right. It's not…" Joe trailed off with a sigh. Nick stared at him with his biggest, begging puppy dog eyes. It wasn't too hard to look really pathetic right now. Joe resettled himself on the bed, his fingers touching down lightly on Nick's shoulder, on Nick's cheek. "Five minutes," he said. "Then I'm getting the doctors."

"Okay," Nick agreed immediately.

He nuzzled against Joe's chest, too tired to be as careful as he knew he should be, to figure out whether this was something he would have done before. He was pretty sure this was normal. Joe wrapped an arm around Nick's waist, his chin kind of pointy against the top of Nick's head. Nick let out a long, slow breath, let himself go limp, all the tension going out of his back at once. He rested his forehead against Joe's collarbone. Joe's hand stroked along Nick's back, slow and soothing.

"What was it like?" he whispered. "Being in a coma? Do you remember?"

Nick's fingers twisted in the front of Joe's shirt. "Like dreaming, I guess." He could feel every inhale of Joe's breath.

"What did you dream about?"

Nick kept his forehead tilted into Joe's chest. "We were famous," he said with a small smile. "We had a big house, and we flew on a private plane." He pressed his cheek to Joe's chest, the fabric of his shirt soft on Nick's skin. "We played an awesome show," he mumbled. "You were there. Another you, but almost just like you."

"I was famous too?" Joe said. Nick could tell he was smiling without looking up.

Nick nodded into his chest, blinked slowly with heavy eyelids. "You looked at me-" he said vaguely. "But I knew it wasn't really me."

Joe chuckled, tilting Nick's head up so he could see Nick's face. "Are you sure your brain's okay in there?" He was joking, but his fingers lingered on Nick's chin like he was worried.

Nick gave up on trying to explain. He was too tired, and he didn't really know how to talk about it. There was too much he couldn't say. "It was a good dream," Nick said, his voice cracking. Joe's arm tightened around him, his cheek coming to rest against the top of Nick's head. He held Nick like that for what felt like a long time.

"I'm glad you woke up," Joe said. His hand cupped the back of Nick's head, warm.

Nick didn't answer, his eyes closing. He felt kind of bad for messing around with that other Joe while his own Joe had been worrying about him. Even though it had still been Joe, sort of. And not even real. He felt kind of like a dick for playing concerts, and writing songs, and getting amazing blowjobs and everything. For not being sure he wanted to ever come back.

"Don't go to sleep," Joe warned, jostling him gently. "Just in case. Until the doctors-"

"M'not," Nick said drowsily. His lips moved against Joe's skin when spoke. He blinked heavily, fighting not to close his eyes. "I'm awake."

*

The problem was that the stupid dream refused to do what dreams do, and just go away. The details should have disappeared into a bunch of hazy barely anythings by now, but no. It just kept sitting there, all vivid and memorable and ruining his life. Before he wouldn't have thought twice about Joe's hugs, or about Joe crooking an arm around his waist, or about waking up on the couch with Joe's head in his lap. But now it was all screwed up, tangled in his head with kissing and with wanting. How was he supposed to figure out how to be normal when he kept thinking about blowjobs every time Joe stuffed a bite of cereal in his mouth? When the way Joe's hand felt on his dick was right there, refusing to be forgotten?

He strummed a few frustrated chords on his guitar. At least the song was still there too. He started to play it again on the old acoustic he'd dragged out of the back of his closet. That was one part of the dream he didn't want to lose. He sang the lyrics to the last verse under his breath. They hadn't quite finished it, but maybe if he went with something about big dreams, or-

"What're you playing?" Joe said, strolling in without knocking, practically giving Nick a heart attack. Nick shoved the guitar off on the side of the bed, even though it was obviously too late to hide what he'd been doing.

"Why aren't you at church?"

"Mom sent me home." Joe tossed himself down on Nick's bed and stripped off his tie.

"To check on me," Nick said flatly. He was getting pretty tired of the hovering. They'd barely given him a moment alone since he got home from the hospital. Like they thought if they turned their backs for a second, Nick was going to eat sugar straight from the bag or something. He didn't need a bunch of people pretending not to watch him every time he tested his levels. He was fine now.

"You can't blame her for worrying about you." Joe shrugged and draped his tie around Nick's neck like a scarf, flipping the end over Nick's shoulder with a flourish. "I can't believe you didn't tell me you were playing again."

"I'm not really," Nick muttered. "I mean, I was just dicking around I guess." He pulled the tie off and tossed it back at Joe. "And I don't need a baby-sitter."

"You have to let us coddle you a little," Joe said. He snuggled his arms around Nick's chest, buried his face in the crook of Nick's neck. "Or cuddle you." He squeezed tighter, his breath hot on Nick's neck. Nick leaned away from him awkwardly, but he just rolled Nick over onto the bed and lay there on top of him. "Just hold still for a second," he said. "I'm gonna cuddle you." Nick squirmed as he nuzzled his nose into the side of Nick's neck. Joe laughed and nibbled gently at Nick's jaw, his hands pinching Nick's belly. Nick bucked underneath him, pushing at him, his face going bright red. This was just- They were just fooling around, and Joe was just kidding. This was normal, he just- Had to get Joe off him before Joe realized he had a boner, that was all.

Joe gave pretty easily when Nick wrestled out from under him, like he was still being careful. Like Nick was so breakable. He grabbed for Nick's hand as Nick rolled away, held on while he said, "Please can I hear it?" He laced their fingers together, giving Nick's hand a soft tug. His hand was warm, and he looked so eager. He smiled at Nick sort of shyly.

Nick really had to stop going so blushy and warm every time Joe smiled at him. He looked at Joe through narrowed eyes, studying his face for the tiny ways he was different from that other Joe. Staring at the dumb little hipster goatee just starting on his chin. At the bridge of his nose where he didn't have the scar. Nick needed to get it through his head. That hadn't been Joe, not really. It hadn't even been real. And the things he'd felt couldn't be real either, so he just had to stop.

"Nick?" Joe said, his thumb stroking against the underside of Nick's wrist. He looked over at Nick, big-eyed and pleading. He clasped his hands under his chin, but he was still holding Nick's hand so the effect was sort of ruined as he pitched his voice high and begged, "Please will you play a song for me?" He pouted broadly. "Pleasepleaseplease with an Elvis Costello record on top?"

Nick rolled his eyes, and shook his hand loose from Joe's grip. "Okay." He reluctantly scooped his guitar off the floor. "But don't tell dad or anyone. It's just- I'm just messing around. I don't want anyone to really know."

Joe mimed zipping his lips and then locking them and then something flaily that looked a little like a magic trick, and then throwing away the key.

Nick kept his eyes on the guitar while he played. It made him nervous to sing this song in front of the real Joe for some reason. Which was pretty silly since he'd basically written this song with Joe. Or not exactly, but kind of… Anyway, he knew it shouldn't be any big deal, but it felt like it mattered a lot if Joe liked it or not. He was halfway through the song before he got brave enough to look up.

Joe was watching him. Just staring at him with this look on his face like Nick was so amazing. Nick felt a blush rush up the back of his neck. He looked exactly like the other Joe right then, like the way that other Joe might have looked at him right before he leaned over and kissed him. Or um- Jerked off on his face or something probably.

Nick stuttered a little, messing up the last verse. But no. That was dumb. Obviously, Joe just really liked the song, which- That was good enough. That was really great. He smiled at Joe, his cheeks hot. He kept his guitar pressed up against his lap to hide his boner. It was his fault for making everything dirty when Joe didn't even mean it like that. The real Joe would never-

Joe leaned forward suddenly, his lips bumping up against Nick's mouth, wet where he'd just licked them. Nick flinched in surprise. Barely had time to think, "What?", before Joe was pulling back again. Nick stared at him, his mouth fallen open. Joe rubbed a rough hand over his mouth, his eyes wide, his face all twisted up. "I'm sorry," he said, stricken. "I'm so stupid. God, I'm- I'm-" He shook his head, scooting backwards toward the edge of Nick's bed. "The song is really, really- It's so good, Nick. I'm sorry. I-"

Nick tossed the guitar aside and lunged after him, tackled him down onto the mattress. "Wait," he said, holding Joe's wrists when he tried to squirm away. "Wait a second. Stop it." He just needed a second because this didn't make sense, and Joe had gone away, Joe didn't want him, and he just- Joe stared up at him, breathing too hard, not meeting Nick's eyes. "Just-" Nick said. And kissed Joe's mouth.

It felt so familiar, just like it had in the dream. The little noises Joe made, and the slick way their lips caught and slid. The eager way Joe chased after his mouth when Nick pulled back to catch his breath. Nick leaned in to kiss him again, double-checking, testing the hot inside of his mouth. So familiar. But he didn't have a scar, and the odd little tickle of his goatee felt different than it had with that other Joe, and this wasn't some mansion, this was New Jersey and this was really happening.

Joe stared at Nick like he'd seen a miracle, dazed, amazed, his mouth pretty and open. His hands clenched, his wrists flexing in Nick's hands. Nick let go of him sheepishly, but Joe didn't try to get up. He just cupped Nick's face in his hands. "I thought if I left I could stop wanting to do that," he said quietly. "But I-" His thumb traced lightly along Nick's jaw for a moment, touched the corner of Nick's mouth. "I didn't." He had this look on his face like somehow this was his fault even when Nick had literally jumped on top of him. Even when Nick was thinking right now about how soon was too soon to ask for a blowjob. He wondered if Joe would be naturally good at it, or maybe he would have to practice a lot... God- Nick was going to make sure he got so good at it. Joe's mouth twisted unhappily. "You don't have to, just because I- Because I'm like this." He stopped miserably.

"I want to," Nick said. It was sort of easier to admit it than he'd thought it would be. He rocked his hips, pressing his hard-on against Joe's thigh. Letting him feel it. "Like, a lot," he said breathlessly. "Really a lot."

Something flickered over Joe's face, a little smile breaking. He tilted his hips so Nick could feel the hard line of his dick through his nice church day suit pants. He pressed a soft, careful kiss to the center of Nick's lips, and then another. Nick settled into kissing him, his insides feeling kind of hot and swollen up, and he couldn’t stop smiling.

"Pinch me," Joe said, panting a little. Nick ignored him, running his tongue up the long line of Joe's throat, sucking on the curve of his jaw. He ground down with his hips, jolting a groan from Joe's lips. "Come on," Joe said. "I have to be sure it's not a dream." And all this talking was making it hard to kiss him. Nick pinched him right in the soft hollow underneath his hipbone. Pinched him hard and tugged sharply on Joe's lower lip with his teeth.

Joe's breath hitched on a whimper, his body arching.

"It's not a dream," Nick said, breathing the words into Joe's skin. "Trust me, I should know."

Joe pressed himself against Nick, his hips moving in needy jerks, and his hands digging into Nick's back, and his mouth was so perfect inside, and none of this could possibly be real but it was.

end


End file.
